Look Upon My Work
by Oberon
Summary: An ATSHP crossover. Illyria happens upon a girl that has lost everything. An innocent hike in the catacombs of Paris leads Hermione to the worst nightmare she could imagine.
1. Chapter 1

Look Upon my Work, And Despair

Prologue

An ATS/HP crossover by Minor WMD +2

Author's Warning: Beware mortal, this is not for the faint of heart or the weak of mind. Madness this way leads. Another words, don't read this kiddies.

Disclaimer: I don't own Angel the Series or Harry Potter. I don't own any characters there in. All characters are properties of their respective authors. Weldon and Rowling. Respectively.

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Like all good stories, ours begins with a girl.

Actually, no, it began with a boy – an infant in fact. And he was the most famous infant in all the world. Well, not all the world. Not even a half of it. By all accounts the part of the world we're talking about you can fit comfortably into the state of Denmark. Go figure, but the people in this part of the world thought themselves more important than the rest. But I digress.

And the boy grew up being abused by his relatives. It's a real tear jerker that one, good for a 90 minute chick-flick on the Lifetime channel.

Well actually the boy is quite boring and isn't really that important. What is important is the girl. So, boy meets girl on the first day of school and the girl falls for another boy. It could have been another teenage angst drama, another 90210, and the story could have ended right there. But nope, there is a prophecy about the boy.

It seems that the first boy, the one abused by the relatives, was destined to kill this very bad man. This boy, he gathers a group of loyal friends around him to help with his destiny. And without knowing it he had dragged the girl into it too. He got lucky the first few times, and managed to stay always one step ahead of the very bad man with the help of the girl and the other boy. But there's a price.

There's always a price…

The damp air condensed off the limestone walls like tears rolling down the face of a crying mural. This place reeked of death - centuries of it. First there were the Roman workers that died mining out stones to build the cities above. Then the French used it to dispose the victims of plague. An eerie chill blew through the tunnels of the _les carrières de Paris_, the catacombs of Paris, and Hermione Granger shivered.

"Mom, do we have to do this?" Hermione Granger, the bushy haired daughter of two dentists, kept a tight grip on the flashlight in her hand.

"Come on, Hermione. Where's your sense of adventure?" the elder Granger woman teased her daughter. "This is our vacation, let's enjoy ourselves." She gave a mischievous smile to her husband who returned the look.

"But can't we have fun without breaking the law?"

The Grangers had paid a local guild for map of the catacombs. Normally, only a small portion of the underground tunnels were opened to tourists, however, there were various hidden entrances all over the city of Paris. For the two older Grangers there was nothing like exploring the unknown than to hike through miles of lightless and damp tunnels that may or may not had been used for disposal of the dead. It was all so very exciting.

It was rumored that the Germans had built a secret bunker down here during their occupation of France in World War II. It would be great if they just happen upon it in their exploration. "The neighbors would eat their hearts out when we show those pictures," the Grangers thought.

"That's what makes it so exciting sweetheart," said Mr. Granger. He held his wife's hands, both smiling.

"Hump," Hermione huffed and stomped off but she didn't dare to go far. Not even out of sight. "I have enough excitement at school as is," the bushy haired girl grumbled.

Jack Granger smiled at his little girl. He had no idea where she got the whole law-and-order mentality but it certainly wasn't from them. As far as Jack knew, his little girl had always been that way. The first time he noticed it was when one of Hermione's teachers complemented them for raising such a wonderful girl. Hermione had apparently seen a boy prank one of their fellow classmates. When no one talked it was Hermione who ratted the boy out. His little girl wasn't exactly Miss Popular with the other children after that incident.

He could still remember the conversation he had with Hermione the following day when she came home crying.

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"Did I do something wrong dad?" a blurred eye Hermione came to him.

"Of course not, sweetheart. You did the right thing." He patted Hermione on the head, comforting her. Her tears slowed. "It's just that sometimes, you have to break a few rules to get anywhere in life." He was brutally honest with her; he didn't want to cuddle his girl from the harsh realities of the world.

Hermione was confused. "But… but…"

"Hush now honey, everything's alright. You did the right thing and that's all you need to know." He cradled the girl and gently rocked her until Hermione stopped weeping.

Later that night, Jack had a quiet talk with his wife about their little girl.

"I'm worried about her Liz," Jack told his wife. "She is so naïve…so pathetically weak… I don't know how she will survive the prophesized time of our master's return?"

"Give her time Jack, she's only six. She'll grow out of it." Liz said the words, soothing her husband but she didn't believe it. Not really.

"I hope you're right… I hope you're right…"

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Back in the catacombs, Jack kissed Liz on the cheek as they walked. The couple giggled like school children.

Jack Granger was a portly figure, a receding hairline and otherwise unremarkable in appearance. He had grown accustomed to life as a dentist. Not too thin, not too muscular and not too fat, Jack was just plan forgettable.

Liz Granger was exactly the same. Not too beautiful or statuesque, everything what a suburban housewife with a dentist practice should look like. She was no Wisteria Lane material but far from repulsive and had passed her good qualities to Hermione. She had on some kakis and white silk blouse with short sleeves and wore expensive perfume, had a nice fragrance to it.

Her parents' giggles echoed off the walls and elicited a mandatory eye roll from Hermione. Just up ahead Hermione heard whispers. The voices sounded very familiar.

"Someone down here with us?" she was scared. "What if they're muggers? Or worse…" Hermione was just about to tell her parents to be quiet want she heard the unmistakable sound of an _Apparation. _It was the distinctive pop of air suddenly compressing.

A man in dark robes and a mask step out from the shadows.

"Well, well… if it isn't the mudblood and her filthy muggle parents," said the figure in the robe.

She knew that voice. "Malfoy…"

"That's right mudblood, and it looks like it isn't your lucky day." By now several other Death Eaters had notice the exchange and had encircled the Grangers.

In desperation Hermione reached for her wand hidden in the pockets of her jeans. She knew it was against ministry laws of underage wizarding but it was their only chance. But Malfoy was faster; he had his wand pointed at them before Hermione could do the same.

He threatened them with the wand. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"What's going on here?" Jack Granger came to the forefront. His loud intimidating voice was not having as much effect as he hoped.

It occurred to Hermione that the Death Eaters weren't equipped with lamps or used the light summoning charm _Lumos_. "They must have charmed their eyes to see in the dark," Hermione surmised. This leaves her with exactly one course of action.

"Shut up muggle." Draco spat.

Hermione new it was now or never. She still had the high power flash light in her hand and she pointed right were Malfoy's eyes should be. The boy-Death Eater recoiled and covered his eyes protectively. Hermione moved quickly to take advantage of the situation. Her hands quickly sneaked into her jean pockets and fished out her wand.

From the corner of her eye she saw the other Death Eaters going for their wands. Instinctively, she jumped and dove to the side narrowly avoiding the incoming spells.

Jack saw it was going down and reacting. He threw himself at the nearest black robed masked freak and with a grunt knocked the heavyset man to the ground.

Hermione grip her wand and braced herself. She hit the cobblestone floor of the catacomb and instantly cast her spell. "_Lumos_" she shouted. She put everything she had into this spell, it was there only chance. There was a brilliant flash of light that came from the tip of her want, all encompassing and all surrounding. The next thing she knew people were screaming all around her spells flew in random directions.

She saw Draco had just about recovered but Hermione didn't give him the chance. Hermione summoned any last bits of her magical strength and send an _Expelliarmus_ at him. She was satisfied to hear his thud against the stone wall. She grabbed her dad and found her mom, together they ran down the tunnel. Hermione thanked Merlin because not one of the random spells hit them.

But they didn't get far.

"_Stupefy_," Jack fell on the floor, a dead weight.

Hermione whirled around to face their attacker but just as she whipped out her wand another Death Eater grabbed onto Liz. The elder Granger woman screamed in surprise. Hermione turned to her mother so fast it almost gave her whiplash, but the meaty hand of the Death Eater on her mom was the last thing she saw.

"_Stupefy_," Hermione hit the floor. She never saw her attacker.

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The cell was dingy and dark as the catacombs under Paris. The stone walls were covered in grim and other filth that the everyday wizard wouldn't care to name. It faintly smelled of urine and feces though it was faint, it must been there a long time ago. No windows, no light, only thick walls that made the perfect breeding ground for mold.

For a moment Hermione thought they were still in Paris, but she noticed the walls where different. While the Parisian catacombs were made from lime and jagged rock the room they were in were made from solid brick. She reached for her wand but it was no longer it her jeans. "Of course the Death Eaters wouldn't allow me to keep it," she berated herself.

She found her parents; they were alive and were only coming to when Hermione nudged them. At first they were confused and scared, but for some reason Hermione wasn't as terrified as she thought she would be under these circumstances.

"What are we going to do Jack?" Liz asked her husband. She held on to him fear very much the only thing on her mind.

"I don't know hon… If only I had my shotgun." Jack eye's searched the room, besides the wooden door there was no other access point. The door looked rotten and rigidly but he doubt he'll be able to break through it with ordinary physical force.

"That wouldn't work," Hermione interrupted. "They have a charm against that," referring to her dad's shotgun.

"It's a very good gun," Jack missed his gun. For a moment Jack wondered what kind of magical education his daughter had been given.

The door swung opened and there, stood the black robed clad figure of a Death Eater. Hermione swallowed nervously she stood up along with her parents and were led outside. They were defenseless; she racked her mind for any Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons that might be useful, but she came up blank. She missed the part on how to escape Death Eaters without a wand.

The Grangers were led into a dark chamber, the Dark Lord Voldemort's throne room. The Dark Lord himself was seated there, upon his throne of skulls. "Don't panic," Hermione told herself.

"Is this the mudblood?" the coarse voice of the Dark Lord resonated around the room.

"Yes my lord," It was Draco Malfoy, Hermione realized. He was standing next to the Dark Lord.

"You will bow to the Dark Lord," someone said then kicked Hermione's feet from under her. She saw her parents were forced on to their knees as well.

The Dark Lord stared at her. "So you are the mudblood the Potter boy is so smitten with?" it was less of a question, more of a statement Hermione thought.

The Dark Lord seems annoyed by her silence a Death Eater picked up on it and kicked Hermione on the face, sending her to the floor with a bruise and foot print on the cheek.

"You will answer the Dark Lord when spoken to," the Death Eater told her harshly.

Her parents tried to reach her but the other Death Eaters stopped them. Hermione got back up defiantly, showing every bit of a Gryffindor. "Whatever you want to do to me just do it. I'm not afraid of you." Hermione declared and stared back at the Dark Lord rebelliously.

Jack and Liz winced. "Bad idea," they both thought.

"This one has got quite a tongue, doesn't she?" The Dark Lord joked. "Very well I shall tell you. We're going to torture you then sent pieces of what's left of you to the boy. I always find that it is more entertaining to let my victims know what's going to happen to them. The expectations you see…" He laughed evilly and Draco also well as the other Death Eaters followed.

"Eh, may I make a suggestion?" Jack interrupted.

Voldemort stopped laughing and scowled the portly dentist. "The muggle is speaking to me," the evil wizard raised his wand.

"Wait," Liz shouted. "We can get you the Potter boy."

Hermione reeled in shock. So too was Voldemort, he paused.

"I am intrigued. Tell me, how do you plan to go about trading the boy for your worthless lives? I am assuming that is what you are offering?" Voldemort hissed. His eyes narrowed into slits as he examined the two senior Grangers.

Jack answered the Dark Lord. "My lord," he addressed him. "It would be our honor to serve you…"

"Get on with it," the dark wizard warned dangerously, letting them know he does not have much patience for muggles.

"Of course, My Lord. You see, the boy, he trusts our daughter and that is the key. We know he lives with muggle relatives that abuse him. It would be a simple matter of inviting him over to stay at our house in London for the rest of the summer." Jack saw the look on the evil wizard and knew he doesn't have much more time. "The boy wouldn't resist the chance to get out of that house and he wouldn't suspect a thing from our daughter. We will go to his house and take the boy to our home where you'll have one of those…" What were those things Hermione told us about last year? The ones that teleports them around… It took Jack a moment to remember what it was called. "portkeys… waiting. Once there, Hermione will trick the boy into taking hold of the portkey and he'll fall into your most merciful hands, My Lord."

Jack knew he had him. The dark wizard was giving his proposal some serious thought. Jack found his daughter gasping at him. She was shock by their behavior. It was for the best, at least this way they'll have a chance of getting out of this alive. Jack just hope his daughter could forgive him in time. He banished that thought. There were more important issues right now.

"Hmm… this plan…" The Dark Lord thought out loud. "It sounds very familiar."

"Only your great magnificence could have come up with such brilliant scheme, My Lord." Jack piled on the butter. "The boy only escaped the first time through sheer luck, it will not be so this time."

"Yes, it was a very good plan… but you'll never get the girl to betray her friend. For wasting my time…" Voldemort whipped out his want and finished what he was about to do earlier. "_Crucio_"

"No, wait!" Liz screamed out and suddenly it turned into a howl as every nerve in her body was racked with pain. She twisted and withered on the floor, her husband shared the same fate.

"Stop it!" Hermione shouted at the sight of her parent's torture. "Stop it…" she shouted once more but it was almost like a plea.

Voldemort smiled. "_**Avada Kedavra**_!" a sickly green light came out the tip of Voldemort's wand. When it touched Jack Granger, he struggled no more.

"Oh God… Daddy?" Hermione tried to reach her father but a Death Eater kicked her down. They laughed at her agony.

"Mr. Malfoy," Voldemort turned to the young Death Eater. "Why don't you entertain us," he point to Hermione. "Impress us with your ingenuity." He smiled wickedly.

"It would be my honor," Draco grinned at Hermione. "May I start with the muggle mother first, My Lord? I'm sure the mudblood would appreciate it more if she watched her loved ones suffer before her eyes."

The Dark Lord knobbed then released Liz from the Cruciatus.

The woman hasn't heard the exchange between Draco and the Dark Lord. She breathed heavily, glad that the pain was suddenly gone.

"No please," Liz heard Hermione's distant voice, pleading for something but she didn't know what for.

Draco ignored the bushy haired girl. He had the perfect spell.

Liz felt something pull on her left eye. It was only annoying at first but it soon became painful. She realized what was happening any slammed her palm over her left eye to keep it inside. But nonetheless, the spell continued to exert its force. Her palm felt slick and before her mind even registered, her left eye ball pulled out of its socket, out of her hand and flow toward the man with the wand. Her vision distorted but she nonetheless saw her eye ball ripped out, optic nerve and all. She screamed and clutched her empty socket protectively.

Hermione couldn't stand it any longer. She charged Malfoy intending to make him pay but she never got close. She was put into the full body bind far from arm's reach of the white haired Death Eater.

"Wait your turn, mudblood." Draco taunted. He presented the hovering eye ball of Mrs. Granger to the Dark Lord. He let the spell end. The white soft ball fell on the carpeted floor with a soft splat. Draco promptly stepped on it, grounded it into paste with the end of his expensive boots.

"A very creative use of that spell," the Dark Lord commented. "Continue,"

Draco took aim once more. "_Sectumsempra_."

Deep gashes appeared on the thrashing woman only to cause her to howl that much louder. The other Death Eaters got a laugh out of that.

"Ah, one of Snape's old spells. Try harder Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy glanced nervously around the room looking for anything that would give him an idea. His eyes drifted onto the dead Mr. Granger. He grinned.

"_Mobilicorpus_," like a puppet on strings, the dead body straightened up.

With his wand, Draco directed Jack's dead body toward the blood soaked Liz. He made sure the woman could get a good look at her husband with her one good one. Draco flicked his wand; Jack raised his fists and struck his wife. Draco flicked his wand again and Jack hit his wife a second time.

Again and again he hit her. The poor wife cried out for her husband to stop and covered herself protectively and cried out his name. After awhile she was still yet Jack continue to pound on her with his bloody fist.

Blood splattered and a few drops landed before Voldemort.

"That's enough Mr. Malfoy." The snake man said.

Jack's body promptly fell limp like a puppet with its strings cut. The body of Jack Granger lay still next to his wife, Liz Granger.

Hermione saw the whole thing, she thought she was going to throw up at some point but the full body bind held her back. Inside she was crying and looking at the still form of her parents she despaired.

"Most impressive Mr. Malfoy. You show a fine mastery of the Mobilicorpus spell." The Dark Lord complimented. He pointed to the girl. "Now, remove a piece of her to send to Potter."

Draco smiled under his mask. He was very proud of his work. He didn't thought he had it in him, he was sure his father would give his own private praise after this meeting. "Thank you, My Lord. How about we sent Potter the little mudblood's tongue? I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

"Although appropriate, I would very much like to hear her scream in the days to come." The Dark Lord scowled. "Choose something else."

"I suppose we can always mail Potter her scalp for the first present." Draco hinted evilly. "I read the process is most painful,"

"An excellent idea," Voldemort chuckled. "However, take care that she does not expire prematurely. She is somewhat instrumental to my plan."

"You're in luck Granger. I will be most gentle." Draco laughed.

Just then the door to the chamber slammed open. A man in Death Eater uniform rushed it.

"This had better be good." The Dark Lord warned.

"My Lord, the girl you had been waiting for. She's here." The Death Eater said excitedly.

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The Dark Lord smiled giddily. "Looks like we'll have to continue this later," he told Draco.

"As you wish My Lord," Draco sleeved his wand then took his place among Death Eaters ranks. "Who could be so important that could make the Dark Lord so happy," Draco wondered. "Could it be…"

Then she came. Her stride was full of grace as she stepped into the room flanked by two Death Eaters. She paid them no mind; every movement was an expression of her confidence, of her assurance in herself and her power. Though dress like a muggle she carried herself as if she owned the place. She was glorious.

Her chestnut brown hair cascaded around her like silk. Her dark chocolate eyes… When Draco stared into them he could only see coldness, infinite coldness of the eternal ice. The boy-wizard recoiled. He felt his skin crawl, a primitive part of Draco's brain screamed for him to get out of the room.

The girl, a young woman actually, examined the Dark Lord before her in a peculiar fashion. Her head tilted to the side in an odd expression of curiosity. For a moment she just stood there, paying the others no mind. They were beneath her notice.

Someone tried to make her pay respects to the dark wizard seated atop the throne but the Dark Lord stopped the Death Eater with a wave.

"You are the magician responsible for the death of the Burkles?" when she spoke it was as a winter storm, uncaring and all penetrating.

"Come, my dear girl," Voldemort said in the warmest voice Draco had heard so far. "Let's not talk about such refuse. Don't you want to know who I am? Why I brought you here?" The snake man welcomed the girl with arms opened but she was not moved. "We are connected, you and I, can't you feel it Fred? Can I call you Fred by the way?" He motioned the girl to come closer it was a most hospitable gesture but she refrained.

"Are you or are you not the magician I seek?" she repeated, patience clearly wearing in her voice.

The Dark Lord's thin lips curled in rage. "The muggle filth is nothing. They are nothing!" The Dark Lord bellowed. "It is you and I that have much to discuss."

"I take it, that's a yes." The young woman's face twisted into a most terrifying smile. She promptly put her fist into the nearest robed figure, the one that had tried to make her bow a moment before. The fist came out the other side of the Death Eater; the young woman pulled her hand back. It was crimson red having been covered in fresh blood. The Death Eater gurgled and struggled weakly a few moments before fall back. Dead.

It was full 5 seconds before all hell broke loose. Spells were sent at the strange woman but they did nothing. People shouted and curse and sent more curses. The woman approached the Dark Lord unhindered. Someone jumped in front of her, to stop her from getting to his master. She grabbed his throat where he stood and ripped it out.

"You think you can move me by killing the Burkles?" She snapped the neck of someone that got in her way. "It impresses me not." she never took her eyes off the Dark Lord, never stopped and never paid heed the attempts to do harm to her. They were a minor annoyance.

Some wizard had the idea of binding her with ropes. He summoned them all around the young woman, wrapping every inch of her body from the neck down.

She looked annoyingly at the restrains. She simply flexed her arms and snapped the ropes with enough strength to send the pieces to every direction. A few of the slower Death Eaters got hit with the pieces of rope which had enough momentum to knock them off their feet.

She approached the Dark Lord and more Death Eaters got in her way. Three of the more muscular ones jumped her; hoping they could stop the thin girl with physical force. The chestnut haired girl read their moves. With the grace beyond any martial arts master she took to the air. Her body spun and she swept her leg 180 degrees. Her feet connected with all three Death Eaters in mid air, sending them crashing into the wall behind Voldemort with a sickening thud and a thunderous crack. The three slid boneless to the ground, every bone in their body shattered by the impact.

Voldemort held out his wand but hesitated while he watched the girl came ever closer by cutting a path of death through his men. A loyal servant charged her with a wicked dagger held high. She took hold of his wrist while the dagger came down, never did her sight leave Voldemort. She redirected the dagger to the wielder's midsection with so much force that his feet lifted off the ground. The dagger came out the other side sending a spry of blood which covered the girl's smooth face and ruined her cream color blouse. She didn't as much as blink. The Death Eater keeled over still twitching.

The Dark Lord gathered his strength. "_Crucio_"

There was no flinch, no sign if she even felt anything.

"Was that supposed to amuse me? It would have tickled had I allowed it." Her cold deadly voice struck a cord in Voldemort. It was not unlike the first time he was vanquished by the Potter boy when he wondered if his precautions against death would hold. He knew mortal fear then, and he could feel it not - as illogical as it were.

He reached into his black billowy robe.

She was almost within arms reach but a very brave man jumped between the girl and Voldemort.

"You shall not... uraggg…"

She grabbed him with iron like fingers. They sank into his flush and took hold. She held him up high, over her head with both hands and brought him down, his back against her unyielding knee. His spinal column broke in half. She casually ripped what remained of the man in two then tossed the pieces to either side.

Voldemort had finally found what he was looking for. In an instant he disappeared in a blinding flash of light. But he had one last parting word.

"Another time then,"

The other Death Eaters took the cue and each made their own exit. Amongst them was Draco Malfoy, he was smart enough to stay out of the lady's way.

"Another time," the blood soak girl repeated in a low whisper. It was a promise and she always keeps her promises.

She surveyed what remained. Corpses casually tossed about lay in broken heaps. Those that were able were gone. Her eyes settled on Hermione who was still frozen and stood erect during the massacre.

The strange woman came upon the bushy haired girl. She examined her, again curiously studying her with her head tilted.

It was an odd moment when the strange woman turned away and walked off. She happened upon one of their little sticks. The tool which allowed them to access their pitiful magic she realized. She went to pick it up the stick when its owner groaned and came around. She kicked him in the head just enough to sent him back into unconsciousness. The young woman decided to save him for later.

She picked up the stick and returned to the frozen Hermione. She held the stick then rapped Hermione's shoulder with the end of it. At once Hermione was released from the full body bind. The bushy haired girl fell on her knees sobbing.

Hermione reached for her parents while the odd woman observed her. She paid the older girl no mind. Hermione held her mother and father to her, her mother's blood covered the Gryffindor. She continued to sob. "Mom… Dad… I'm sorry. This is all my fault," Hermione screeched. "If it wasn't for me none of this would have happened." For a long while she cried her heart out shaking and heaving alternately.

"You are grieving, and still it tastes like offal in my mouth." Her mind swarmed with death of a man - the only man to ever make her feel a connection to the world. These images had haunted her, his eyes as she looked into them at that final moment, she could never be at peace with them. Yet she would treasure that moment as long as she lived.

For some inexplicable reason the older girl felt the need to comfort Hermione. It was out of her character and she did not know why, the reason was unimportant, she just did. "Seize your bleating. It is disgusting, puking your feelings into the air. It is revolting to my senses." She doesn't know exactly how to go about comforting a teenage girl though.

"How can you say that!" Hermione snapped at the older girl. "I just lost my parents." she returned to subbing.

"I too had lost. The magician, he murdered my…" it took the older girl a moment to decide what exactly to call them. "parents as well."

"Then why are you so calm about this?" Hermione said between sobs.

"I have learned that there is much grief in this world already, far too much. It is better to remember the good times than to dwell on a past which we cannot change. Will you crush yourself beneath this mountain of pain? Or will you fight to avenge what has been taken from you?"

Hermione did not respond. After a few more minutes of watching the girl cry, the strange woman lost interest.

"Pathetic," She turned to leave.

Hermione pulled herself back enough to notice the other girl was leaving. "Wait, take me with you." She shouted at the last moment. Hermione stood up bravely, wiped the tears with the sleeve of her shirt. Her puffy red eyes met the other girl's for the first time.

"Think carefully," the older girl cautioned. "To travel down this path you must leave everything you are behind. All your childish hopes and dreams die with your parents in this room. Are you ready to walk with me?"

Hermione never really thought over what her request had entailed. Not until this point. But she knew now that not Dumbledore, not the Ministry not anyone else could triumph over Voldemort. That's because she's going to kill him herself. She's going to kill Voldemort and Draco Malfoy and anyone that got in her way.

"My name is Hermione Granger and I am sure. Teach me how to kill."

Something died in Hermione Granger that night. But in that place decimated by pain and sorrow something new had taken root. A seed, a spark of rage and of wraith unbound, it was small at first.

The other girl approved. "Very well, you may call me Illyria."

The two girls disappeared into the night, the citadel of their enemy a firry blaze behind them.

And so the story of the girl begins where the fires of her death had consumed all that she was. It could have been another teenage drama and it could have ended there. But the show was just beginning and all the actors had just entered the stage.

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If you want more Reviews are a must. BTW. This takes place in the summer between the 4th and 5th book.


	2. Chapter 2

Look Upon my Work, And Despair

Chapter 1

An ATS/HP crossover by Minor WMD +2

Author's Warning: Beware mortals this is not for the faint of heart or the weak of mind. Madness this way leads. Another words don't read this kiddies. The violence is much dialed back in this chapter. Obviously you can't expect gore galore every time. It wouldn't be special anymore.

Disclaimer: I don't own Angel the Series or Harry Potter. I don't own any characters there in. All characters are properties of their respective authors. Weldon and Rowling. Respectively.

Note: After much, much rewrite I present to you the final(ish) version of Chapter 1. Much of the grammar problems should be gone (I hope). Moreover, I believe I got Hermione's characterization and speech pattern right this time around.  
  
  
  
  
  


Sweat rolled down her brow. Her muscles burned. Her breathing quickened. She was constantly made aware of her pulse by the throbbing of her veins.

"Breathe," Hermione told herself.

Hermione felt her lungs strained to provide oxygen. It hurt when she breathed.

"This is nothing!" she barked at herself like some drill instructor.

She ran by the O'Brian's house, Mrs. O'Brian waved at her from the kitchen window. With a smile Hermione waved back as she went past.

Her endurance was approaching the breaking point. Hermione knew wouldn't be able to keep this pace up much longer and was already soaking in sweat from head to toe. Some of the perspiration got into her eye, she shocked it away.

A red sedan drive passed her and she ignored the happy couple inside.

Hermione's legs protested and she knew she was at her limit. But she did not stop. "Suck it up, Hermione. Keep going." Again her mental drill sergeant drove her on. She ran past the Harris property, a large elegant home with a green front yard. Hermione used to play with their kids back before she received her Hogwarts letter. They have a girl about her age named Jessica, she and Hermione were friends back then too. That wasn't exactly accurate, she let Jessica copy her homework and Jessica let Hermione hung around while they were out. Hermione thought the cycle would end once she got to Hogwarts; apparently Jessica was just replaced by Ron and Harry. She lost touched with Jessica though. Hermione wondered if she should pay them a visit later, catch up on old times and all, a little gossip about the people they used to know. She crushed those thoughts.

Her legs, they felt so heavy. Finally, she collapsed on someone's lawn.

"Good morning, Hermione," she heard someone called out her name.

Hermione sat up. Colin Kensington waved at her as he got out of his red sedan. He was in his late twenties, dashing and a fairly successful architect. Hermione returned the gesture. "Good morning, Mr. Kensington, Sir. What are you doing out so early, if I may ask, Sir?" she asked out of politeness.

Mrs. Kensington got out the other side of the car. She went to the back seat and opened the door. Someone stepped out. Mrs. Kensington came around the back with the other person in tow. It was a little boy with dirty blonde hair. The boy, he obviously was not directly related to the Kensingtons whom both had very dark hair. Mrs. Kensington kneeled down and pointed Hermione out to the boy.

"That's Hermione," Mrs. Kensington told the boy who just shied away.

Mr. Kensington patted the boy on the head. "This is our new son. His name is Brian. We just picked him up from the orphanage today."

"He's just a little shy, love." Mrs. Kensington told Hermione.

"He's a… he's adorable, Ma'am." Hermione smiled uncomfortably. If only these people knew what's out there, she lamented. Would they still laugh and smile if they know there's a group of psychopaths out there, out to kill every happy family with powers they could not imagine? Hermione forced the smile because she wasn't capable of genuinely smiling anymore, not unless it's over the grave of Draco Malfoy. She turned away; this little happy new family was too much for her. These people reminded her too much of her own parents. They disgusted her.

"Oh Hermione," Mrs. Kensington quickly added before Hermione could run off. "Why don't you come over for dinner sometime? And bring your parents too. I'm sure they'll enjoy meeting Brian." Mrs. Kensington ruffled the boy's hair.

"My parents are still… that is… they're away in the Caribbean somewhere." Hermione lied. It was a well-rehearsed story and she hadn't had trouble telling it after so much practice.

"You mean to tell me that it's just you living in that house?" Mr. Kensington sounded alarmed.

They were good people and Hermione berated herself for hating them. "No, of course not," Hermione said truthfully. "My Yank of a cousin is staying with me for the summer. She's older so my parents trust her to look after me, I would think. B-But I can look after myself perfectly fine – thank you very much." She had started to tell people Illyria was her cousin when the neighbors asked about her. So far it kept them from poking their noises into their business.

"Well bring her over. I'm sure you two girls would appreciate a home cook meal. How about next Saturday? Don't be late because there're two seats with your names on them." Mrs. Kensington didn't leave much room for argument.

Grudgingly Hermione agreed. She wondered how she's going to get Illyria to come along or making an ass of herself if she does. Sometimes that girl could be so arrogant that Hermione couldn't stand to be in the same room. Other times she could make Hermione's skin crawl with just a look. Then there are the times that the older girl just simply terrified her. Or made her feel like an insignificant insect with a few simple words.. "I mean honestly… who does that girl thinks she is - some kind of Goddess?" Hermione grumbled. Speaking of dinner, Hermione couldn't recall the last time the older girl ate anything. "Or sleep for that matter." Though admittedly, Hermione had always been the one to sleep first having passed out every night from exhaustion.

  
  
  
  
  


Having returned from her morning run, Hermione went to shower. She stank and not in a good way. After the grooming she ate, simple eggs, no salt and milk from a carton she remembered shopping for with her mother. The house was quiet now, Hermione noticed. It was dead - the heart had been cut out - just like her.

Illyria returned around nine, a package in her hand. Hermione saw the girl stowed the package away.

"For later," she said.

They began Hermione's morning training session around ten. For the last two weeks, Illyria had tried to teach Hermione the basics of sword fighting.

The first few days infuriated the former God-King. The pupil whines too much. Illyria had contemplated whether or not to snap the young girl's neck many times during the course of their lesions. It was a light punishment for wasting her time. For some inexplicable reason the goddess endured this urge. The girl was pathetic, barely able to hold a sword. It took the girl many hours just to repeat the most basic techniques and longer still to understand their purpose. Worse yet, when they first started the girl required rest every few minutes. Still, Illyria did observe some progress. After two weeks of intense training the girl could manage thirty minutes without pause. Yet her form was still far from acceptable.

Hermione faltered and overextended her stroke.

"In my time if a warrior among my armies was as weak and pathetic as you are, it would have been put out of its misery."

"I'm really, really sorry. I lost concentration for a second." Hermione breathed heavily and leaned on the sword.

"Such a costly mistake will quickly cost you your life in a battle," Illyria allowed the girl a moment of rest then ordered her to continue. "Visualize your foe before you then strike with intention."

They continued to train until lunch time at which point Illyria dismissed her student.

Illyria brought out the package she stowed away earlier. She unwrapped the brown package in front of the Gryffindor, who promptly squealed like a little girl. The thing twitched despite being cut out from its owner's chest hours ago. It was a heart, too large to be that of a human.

"The still beating heart of a Colibari demon, the butcher claims the quality of its protein exceeds that of a new born infant and it goes great with a little tobacco sauce." Illyria recounted what she had been told. "Eat, and grow strong." She shoved the organ, still fresh and bloody, to Hermione.

  
  
  
  
  


It was almost a week later before Hermione got up the courage to talk to Illyria about the dinner party they were invited to by the Kensingtons. Dinner was the Kensingtons were set for the next night by the way. Hermione took a deep breath and waited, usually Illyria showed up around this time for their afternoon training session.

The bushy haired girl waited for her trainer, fully prepped in spandex and sports bra, only now her hair wasn't out of control. Hermione had taken to bind her once wild hair with a rubber band. She waited around twenty minutes but there was no sign of the older girl. This was very unlike Illyria who was always punctual.

"That's the trouble with that girl. If she shows up and I'm not here then it's my fault," Hermione grumbled angrily. "I mean, come on – just lay off that God complex at least once in awhile." She clamped her mouth shut, fearful that the other girl could hear her. "She's probably in the house somewhere, just mopping around and doing weird stuff like usual."

Nevertheless, Hermione went through her house to look for the older girl. She searched every room and turned up nothing. None of the rooms seemed like they had been slept in, except for Hermione's own room. In fact, everything had collected a fine layer of dust. Hermione searched her parents' bedroom and almost broke down. She shut the door and didn't look back.

"I can't avoid it forever," she mumbled. Hermione's shuddered, her tears barely held back but then her resolve hardened. "I'll… I'll mount their heads in your room." Hermione declared then angrily kicked an innocent Chinese takeout bag that got in her way. The older girl must be rubbing off on her, Hermione mused. She felt a lot better but she still had the urge to hit something.

She found her way to the stairs leading to the attic, the only place she hadn't checked. The Gryffindor climbed up the steps and casually flipped the light switch on the left wall. There was someone up in the attic, just not the person she had expected. A Death Eater, Hermione was sure because he was still wearing their black robs and his mask lay broken at his feet.

The Death Eater stirred but Hermione wasn't afraid, it seemed Illyria had him beaten pretty well and secured by chains to the wall. Hermione saw a good deal of blood both on him and on the darkly stained wood. The Gryffindor approached him boldly. Closer to the moaning man, she saw his face was bloodied and the forehead was carved up but obviously he was still alive. The carvings were symbols, Hermione realized. Some she knew to be variants of ancient runes, some arithmancy far beyond her understanding and others seemed like plan gibberish.

The Death Eater abruptly stared Hermione in the eye. He violently struggled against his bonds but it was no use. "Come here, mudblood!" he screamed out. "Come here and release me." When he saw Hermione wasn't cooperating he struggled much more violently to no avail. "I swear, when I get out of this you're dead. DEAD! You'll suffer a thousand times what has been done to me. RELEASE ME! You filthy whore! I'll stick my cock so far up your arse that I'll come out the other end. When I'm through with you, you'll beg me to kill you."

SLAP

He stopped struggling and smiled evilly. "I remember you," he chuckled. "You're the little bitch the Dark Lord played with. Your parents' screams were quite lovely."

Hermione's lips trembled. Her hands balled up into fists. With everything she got Hermione delivered a right hook into the Death Eater in the gut.

The Death Eater choked and coughed. He lost his balance and curled around the fist. Breathing heavily he stared Hermione in the eye and was about to say something like "Was that all you got…" but he never had the chance. His jaw met the girl's knee and he got the bad end of the deal. If he wasn't groaning in pain he would have realized the girl had taken out a couple of his teeth and he is now bleeding profusely from the wounded gums.

Hermione ran out of the room crying. She ran out of the house and ran into the suburban streets. She didn't know where she was going and just knew she needed to be somewhere else. As she took off, small drops of her tear hit the pavement leaving a small trail. The pitiless streets did not care for the pain of one girl and in the day of the summer's heat, the trail of tears quickly evaporated.

  
  
  
  
  


The Gryffindor girl ran with no destination only the hurtful words of an evil man driving her on. Hermione didn't know how long she ran but by the time she took notice of her surrounds the Kensingtons were just getting out of their house. They were in a panic.

Mr. Kensington had Brian in his arms. The boy was unconscious. There was a look of terror in Colin Kensington's eyes, he rushed the boy into the Sedan and saw Hermione as he went past. Hermione tried to ask what was going on but Mr. Kensington either didn't realize she was there or ignored her. A hasty Colin Kensington gently laid his son on the back of the sedan then got into the driver seat. He drove off, his tires screeched and burned. The red sedan pulled out of reverse than accelerated down the street. He drove like a mad man, leaving Hermione to wonder what was going on.

  
  
  
  
  


The next day Hermione phoned the Kensington home to see if the dinner was still on. There was no answer. She tried calling back every now and then over the next two days but it wasn't until the 3rd day that someone picked up.

"Hello, Mr. Kensington, Sir." Hermione greeted the man on the other end.

"Oh, Hermione, it's you. What can I do for you?" He sounded worn Hermione noted.

"I was just wondering if there was anything wrong. I saw you rushed Brian out of the house pretty fast a few days ago."

"It's Brian…" Was he crying? "He suddenly fell ill last Friday… We rushed him to the Doctor but they didn't know what's wrong with him. They couldn't do anything for him… he just sort of…." He was crying.

Hermione didn't know what to say. She knew what it's like to lose someone. Brain had only been with them a few days but she was sure the Kensingtons cared for him a great deal. At least when her parents were murdered she had someone to blame, people to get revenge on, but the Kensingtons got nothing.

It was Wednesday and the girls were training as usual. Hermione wielded her sword clumsily but still better than last week. Her breathing was even, she was focused, everything was good. Suddenly broke into a frenzy of hack and slashes totally forgetting everything she had learned in the past three weeks. She screamed and hacked away at nothing.

Illyria stopped her sword arm with a grip like iron.

"Perhaps this world is indeed void of warriors. I had thought there would be others like the half-breeds. It seems they were nothing more than an aberration." The goddess pondered aloud.

Hermione didn't know what the other girl was talking about but she knew she was being insulted again. There was anger still in her and she let it get the best of her. "I hope you're pleased with yourself, you ruined a perfect good exercise. Besides weren't you the one that said I should imagine fighting my enemy? Well, that's what I'm doing." Hermione shot back and immediately regretted it. For a moment she saw the look in Illyria's eyes and it chilled her.

Illyria raged internally. "I should kill you for such insolence," she said dangerously. Her grip tightened. If she wanted the bones in Hermione's arm would turn to powder.

But the moment passed and Illyria resisted the urge to finish the job the magician started earlier. "But he would not appreciate it if I broke my promise." She released Hermione and was satisfied to see the girl wince in pain.

"A true warrior is the master of her emotions. Anger, rage, pain, sorrow they are nothing more than tools to be use and discard at will."

The adrenaline passed and Hermione was totally exhausted after her outburst, however, before there could be further discussion they were interrupted by door bell.

Hermione quickly hid her sword under the coach and went to check on the door. She found Mrs. Kensington outside with a most far away expression, like she wasn't all there.

"Hello, Ma'am, is there something I can do for you?" She felt sorry for the woman, the black rings under her eyes told Hermione that she hasn't slept for days. The woman's hair was a mess.

"Oh Hermione, I have such wonderful news. Brian is coming home, his coming home. Why don't you come over later and we can make up for that dinner we missed?" The woman ignored Hermione's attempt to talk to her. She bounced off to the next house to spread the good news.

"Didn't Mr. Kensington say that Brian was dead?"

  
  
  
  
  


Around nine that night, Illyria came to Hermione's room. She had Hermione's sword and instructed her to follow. The only elaboration she gave was "There is work to do". No further discourse, she walked out the room and expected Hermione not to be far behind.

Hermione followed Illyria out of the house and into the suburban streets. They walked down the block to a large house with a green lawn.

"This is the Kensingtons," Hermione recognized it at once.

Illyria ignored her and instead kicked in the door with a swift motion that met no resistance.

Hermione gasped. "What are you doing?"

Then she realized something was wrong in the Kensington house. A trail of blood led deeper into the house and Mr. Kensington's red sedan was still in the drive way. She swallowed nervously. "D-Death Eaters" she thought timidly. "But where is the dark mark, unless… unless they're still here." She gripped her sword tightly and wished she still had her wand.

Illyria strolled in fearlessly. Hermione followed and nervously glanced around looking for Death Eaters in the shadows. The two girls followed the trail of blood. It led from the door to the main living room. Everything in the living room looked fine, nothing was disturbed, no signs of a struggle. They continued to follow the trail into the kitchen.

Blood was everywhere and in the middle was Mr. Kensington. Hermione held back a scream. Mr. Kensington had been carved up and his stomach opened from belly to groin, his intestines spilled out from the wound. It looked like he was still alive when that happened. The trail of blood was very likely left behind when Mr. Kensington crawled from the door to the kitchen. His hands were inches from the phone. He tried to reach for help but it was not meant to be.

There was a scream and Hermione realized it was did not come from her. It was from somewhere on the second floor. They rush to investigate. Eventually they ended in the little boy's room. Hermione was shocked. Mrs. Kensington was there, tied to the little boy's bed post by ropes. She was covered in blood and deep gashes. Her eyes were like Liz Granger's, just before she died. What was terrifying, however, was the boy, Brian.

Only he wasn't a boy. Hermione didn't know what he is. He had four legs the odd pair attached above the hip, and he loomed over Mrs. Kensington like a spider. His skin was rubbery like leather, pale white and stretched tightly over his body.

The boy-creature appeared fully exposed before the two girls. Hermione blushed; the Brian demon had a rather large endowment. It was erect and throbbing. A layer of clear liquid was over the organ and it glistened in the light. Its head was posed dangerously close to Mrs. Kensington.

The Brian creature noticed their presence and hissed angrily at them. It brought the bloody kitchen knife he used on Mrs. Kensington to face Hermione and Illyria. Without warning he attacked the two women. His four powerful legs allowed him to leap at Illyria, who he intended to finish quickly with a stab to the heart.

Illyria casually snatched the Brian creature in mid-leap. The creature quickly found itself suspended by his wrist completely impotent in Illyria's grasp. It kicked futilely unable to make use of the weapon in his hand.

Illyria tossed him aside.

The creature got back up slowly and regarded Illyria with fear.

"I'm not your opponent." Illyria's menacing presence terrified the creature. It cowered in fear as she spoke. "She is," and pointed at Hermione.

Hermione swallowed hard and brought up her guard. And in was just in time too, the Brian creature rushed Hermione like a rampaging spider and slashed hard from right to left. Hermione parried the first blow by means of sheer survival instinct. The creature slashed again and again. He came at Hermione with a frenzy of slashes and stabs but Hermione deflected it every time. The Gryffindor back paddled into the wall, pushed back by the sheer voracity of the creature and her own fear.

Though Brian was a demon, he had no more strength than the 10-year-old boy he disguised as. His kind usually relied on voracity and surprise to subdue its victims. It only confronts its would-be parents after much psychological torture. The creature was not used to its victim putting up a fight.

The creature swung his knife a little too hard and it went flying out of its grasp. With no weapon resorted to tackle the girl. Hermione wasn't prepared for the sudden change in tactics and let down her guard. The Brian creature managed spear Hermione's mid section and succeeded in knocking the wind out of her.

Hermione recovered almost instantly, the creature saw this and quickly scurried away before Hermione could bring her sword to bear. Brian managed to get back his knife and kept it between himself and Hermione defensively. It panted like a dog. It had put everything into an all-out attack hoping he could overwhelm the girl. But it didn't do any good. It knew it had only one chance now but the thin woman by the door guarded the only means of escape. In desperation it lunged at Illyria hoping to take her by surprise.

The goddess backhanded the creature and sends it crashing to the wall. It slumped forward, dazed. Its bloody kitchen knife fell loose.

"Finish it," Illyria told the girl coldly.

Hermione approached the demon child ready but uncertain.

The creature looked at Hermione with fear. But it had one last trick.

"Hermione. Help me," the demon pleaded. "It hurts honey. Make it stop. Make it stop."

"Mommy?" it was her mother's voice and it was coming from the creature. Hermione froze.

In that split second while Hermione was distracted the creature found its knife and without warning plunged it at Hermione's gut. The creature howled in pain. Before it could stab the Gryffindor, a flying piece of glass lobbed its arm off at the elbow.

Illyria had realized the creature's intentions. A piece of broken glass spun out from Illyria's hands and sliced off the creature's forearm like it was cutting hot butter. The goddess smiled cruelly.

Hermione watched the creature held the bleeding stump of its arm. Something in her exploded. "You insensitive little creep! I'll 'make it stop'. Honestly…" with everything she had she drove the sword into the creature and through the wall.

It was over and Hermione breathed a sign of relief.

"Never hesitate to finish off an enemy. That is your first lesson."

  
  
  
  
  


As always reviews gets you the next chapter. I'm still looking for beta, so if you want to help mail me at


	3. Chapter 3

Many thanks for Idrisien for beta'ing this chapter.

Additional Beta's welcome.

Look Upon My Work, and Despair

Chapter 2

By Oberon Warning: Beware mortal, this is not for the faint of heart or the weak of mind. Madness this way leads. Another words, don't read this kiddies.

Disclaimer: I don't own Angel the Series or Harry Potter. I don't own any characters there in. All characters are properties of their respective authors. Weldon and Rowling. Respectively.

  
  
  
  
In Little Chelsea, near Battersea Park, a little shop goes unnoticed between the many trendy restaurants and café shops. Joe's Exotic Meats in large but unobtrusive lettering appears on the front door. The shop has no windows and only two doors - the main entry and one in the back.

Few of the local residents ever venture into this shop. Those curious enough, quickly learn the owner has a hideous disfiguring skin disease.

The doorbell rang. Joe has a customer. "Top of the mornin' to you, Fred," the butcher greeted the thin woman. Butcher Joe remembered the bird mostly because of the odd accent. Three weeks ago, she first showed up in Joe's shop. She wanted something good for building muscles in a human.

Joe had introduced her to the still beating heart of a Colibari demon. Funny, she didn't squirm at all.

"Mornin' Joe," Fred said cheerfully. "I'll have the usual."

"One Colibari heart, coming right up." The butcher wondered if he should try his hand at matchmaking. The bird's a lovely girl and very likable, even for a human. However, most of his regulars tend to eat lovely young girls. He couldn't do that to her.

"That'll be three hundred and twenty-two pounds, love." Joe announced, pointing to numbers on the electronic scale.

The bell atop the door rang again. A brute entered the shop. This newcomer's eyes had both a mean and dull gleam to them - angry but not intelligent. This brute, a creature in a black leather jacket, swaggered over to the meat counter. The creature had loose skin that hung off his flesh and jiggled as he walked. The creature's most prominent feature was its large flapping ears.

Illyria thought Loose-Skin's ears resembled that of a mutt owned by the shell's neighbor. She was intrigued by this creature for it had the gall to touch her. Illyria in her 'Fred' persona, allowed Loose-Skin to shove her aside.

"Joe, me boy, you haven't been payin' your protection. My associates are very, very upset with the way you keep spittin' in their faces." Loose-Skin leaned over, taking hold of Joe's apron with both meaty hands. He whispered into Joe's ear. "And when they're upset, they send me in to make them happy. You do want to make me happy, don't you Joe?"

Joe looked Loose-Skin determinedly in the eye. "Mate, you can tell those human friends of yours to shove it, shove it good up their arse, cause I ain't paying the likes of them one single shilling."

"Now, you listen to me. You better start payin' or there's goin' to be… accidents." Loose-Skin brushed the Colibari heart off the counter. The heart landed on the tile floor. It bounced and continued to beat. "It would be a real shame to see all these delicious meats spoiled, mate." Mustering a good deal of speed, stomping on the heart, he ground it under his boot.

Still, the butcher didn't budge. "Bug off. Your associates have no business with our people. These are matters humans have no right interfering in."

"I'll say this one last time. Pay up, or else . . ." Loose-Skin stared at Fred obscenely. "Your customers might find themselves in a bit of an accident too. That can't be good for business." Licking his fleshy lips, he winked at Fred. "Ow do, chick. The name's Prisck, want to have some fun?"

The God-King grew annoyed with the offensive creature. "You would presume to speak to me - your better?" Illyria rumbled like a storm.

"You a Yank?"

Illyria glared at the creature before her. Without warning, she struck Loose-Skin with enough force to send the creature crashing into the back of the store. The creature smacked his head against the brick wall with a thud. Illyria stalked toward Prisck's unconscious form. Her face wore a stony unreadable expression.

"No, wait." The butcher shouted. "Don't bother killing him. They'll just send another." He saw Illyria's eyes and shivered. She was a monster, more terrible and glorious than he could ever hope to become.

Illyria frowned at the butcher. "The affairs of the human slime are beneath my concern," she said coldly, stomping on Prisck with her foot. "This one will pay for its insult toward me."

  
  
  
  


"Are you here, Brian? Brian? Please, Brian … Please, come out. Please, let me see you, baby. Oh God! Colin… Brian, stop! Oh God… Oh God… NO! Brian…" Mrs. Kensington kept going on and on in a feverish delirium. She struggled with her bonds, rattling the hospital bed but unable to break free. Her eyes stared lifelessly into nothing, glazed over like nothing was between them.

"She's been like that since she woke up," the tall doctor said. He shone a light into Mrs. Kensington's eyes. The poor woman just continued to ramble on as if the light wasn't there. "Sometimes, she is aware of what's going around her. She's still in shock though. Keeps spouting on about her dead son killing her husband."

Hermione felt guilty for not being able to help her sooner. If only she had realized what was going on when Mrs. Kensington showed up at her doorstep earlier that day. She could have saved Mr. Kensington too. "W-Will she…."

The doctor sighed. "In time. It depends on her. She suffered trauma both psychological and emotional. She saw her husband murdered right in front of her. People don't recover from that - at least not quickly. Do you want to stay with her? I think she needs to see a familiar face right now."

Hermione agreed.

"Just hit the call button if anything happens, all right?" The doctor left Hermione to her own devices.

For a while Hermione just sat there, beside Mrs. Kensington. She held the woman's hands, hoping to comfort the grieving widow. Hermione Granger felt a connection with the woman, like they understand each other now.

Now that they shared something in common – death had unjustly taken someone close to them. Yet the older woman did not get better. Hermione realized something, Illyria was her pillar. If it wasn't for Illyria, she wouldn't have been any better than Mrs. Kensington right now.

Worse, she would be dead. For the first time, Hermione saw how much she depended on Illyria for strength. "Maybe the reason she is so cold is because she's got nobody to lean on." Hermione remembered that Y-You-know-who killed her parents too. "And I've been acting like such a spoiled insensitive prat toward her… "

"H-Hermione?"

"Mrs. Kensington, you're awake." Hermione hugged the older woman.

"I-I remember. You were there, Hermione. I remember you in that room. You saw him right? Right?" Mrs. Kensington was hysterical. "They say I'm insane, but you saw him, right? You saw Brian? I'm not insane. They need to find my boy. They need to find Brian."

"Mrs. Kensington…"

"Tell them I'm not insane. Tell them," Mrs. Kensington pleaded desperately, almost angrily.

Hermione mulled over what she should say. She couldn't possibly tell the doctors the truth about what happened that night. The doctors would think she was crazy too. Hermione swallowed nervously. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Kensington. I really, really am but - I didn't see anything. It's only a hallucination from having so much blood loss and all… That is… the burglar. Well, we all know the dead can't come back to life."

There, she lied to a grief-stricken woman driven half insane by a demon-child that murdered the woman's husband. Somehow, Hermione felt she was less than dirt. They didn't talk much afterwards, Mrs. Kensington relapsed into madness.

  
  
  
  


A lifetime of memories lay forgotten underground. Grandma Granger's oak rocking chair, relegated to a dark corner to collect dust. Old vinyl records of the Beatles left neglected since the last time they saw the light of day. Great-grandfather Hortus left Liz and Jack his ancient bicycle; it was down here with an African fertility totem - a souvenir from his safari. An Egyptian sarcophagus from another Granger served as a makeshift workbench. Ancient texts of indiscernible languages and origins piled on the stone sarcophagus.

A gloved hand dangled a large pendant with a large jewel set in the middle. Words, unrecognizable and simultaneously both eloquent and vulgar, echoed in the chilly basement of the Granger household. In response to the power of the words, the jewel in the pendant shone with an angry red light. The red light throbbed and screamed an animalistic roar. Then the light suddenly died, the red jewel cracked and shattered in the pendant.

Illyria scowled angrily at the hateful object. It infuriated the God-King that a pathetic spell had given her this much trouble.

The blue goddess felt someone enter the house. Illyria stretched out her senses - the bushy haired one had returned. The Granger spawn stank of self-loathing and guilt. Illyria became Fred again before she went looking for Hermione. She found the girl waiting in the kitchen.

Hermione gathered her courage. She felt rotten about the way she had acted toward Illyria in the last few days since the Kensington incident. The Gryffindor decided it was time to clear the air. Deep down, Hermione resented Illyria for making her, Hermione Granger, feel doubt and inadequacy, bungling even. Hermione understood this and was not afraid to admit her feelings.

"I was thinking, we really haven't had much of a chance to talk." Hermione waited for a response but got impatient when she met Illyria's blank expression. "Well, I do think we need a good talk. It would help promote the important notion of teamwork and cooperation if we communicated more."

Illyria studied the bushy haired creature curiously. "You wish for deeper intercourse?"

Hermione blushed but quickly realized what Illyria had meant. "Communication… that's important, as I was saying."

Illyria appeared not to notice Hermione's momentary confusion, or it might be that she simply did not care.

"You may speak," Illyria told the girl imperiously.

"I've been meaning to ask. Did I-I kill Brian or did I kill a creature that used his face?" This question had been bugging Hermione since the night of the incident. Brian was unlike anything she had read about in both the wizard and muggle worlds.

"You are feeling shame…" Illyria understood. Pride. ". . .Because you pride yourself on knowing more than others. But your hopelessly small minds can never hope to grasp the depths of my knowledge… I will set your mind at ease. He was a demon, Brian was but a lie meant to deceive the foolish lambs."

Hermione nearly had her world turned upside-down. "Wait. A demon? They don't exist!" Hermione protested, denying what she had just been told. "A demon is just a term muggles use to call various magical creatures. Besides, if they are demons, they would just fall under the Dark Creature category, I would think. Are you sure I didn't just kill some obscure Dark Creature the Ministry regulates like Vampires and Werewolves, they do have rights you know!"

Illyria radiated annoyance for the Hermione-creature. The blue goddess had seen this before, during her reign. In the beginning, some foolishly denied her, confusing greatness with impossibility. Back then, the God-King drove home her point with glee. Those that disagreed quickly yielded to Illyria's rule - or died most horribly. For Illyria destroyed what was not utterly hers. Yet the times had changed, and so changed the world.

"I know nothing of your Ministry. However, if they think such creatures can be controlled by their ineffectual laws, then clearly they are fools." Illyria pointed at Hermione. "You, on the other hand, are no better than the rest of your species. You blind your eyes and cut off your ears. Humans see and hear what fits conveniently into your narrow understanding of the world and discount the rest as rumors and lies. Your kind ignores what goes on beneath until it rips you apart, and still you would deny its existence."

Hermione raised her voice in defense. "That's not true! I'll have you know I can hear and see just fine, thank you very much. It's just that… just most likely… I haven't read the right books. What went on the other night was - it was tragic, but - a rare occurrence, I would think. Likely, the Ministry doesn't think we need to worry about them."

"Believe what you will. It does not concern me. If you wish to follow me, then follow. Your understanding is not required, only your obedience." Illyria stalked out of the room. She paused just outside. "Are you coming?"

Hermione took a moment to realize Illyria meant to follow her, literally. Their conversation had left Hermione with more questions than answers. She had wanted to ask Illyria about that night the Death Eaters captured them, what she was and what made even You-know-how fled in fear of her power. Hermione never got the chance. The entire conversation irritated Hermione. Although Hermione didn't like Illyria's condescending tone, the Gryffindor also knew she wouldn't get far without that overbearing, self-important, egotistical… Hermione could go on, but said woman was waiting for her.

  
  
  
  


Illyria took them around London, when they finally arrived at their destination it was almost midnight. The warehouse district, near the docks. Hermione sensed something foreboding in the area. The last time she went trespassing… Hermione nearly broke down at the painful memory.

"We shouldn't be here, it says 'Do Not Enter' on the gates," she said, pointing out the sign to Illyria. Illyria just walked ahead, heedless. Or maybe Illyria simply didn't care.  
Hermione followed and soon Illyria led them to a weather-worn warehouse, one among many others. This building's rusted walls shook with the gently blowing breeze. Looking through the broken windows, it looked abandoned inside.

A door was opened and the two entered. The door had rusted hinges and creaked terribly.

"I was wondering, do you own this building?" Hermione knew it was a stupid question but felt she should ask anyway. Again, Illyria ignored her.

Deep inside the warehouse was another door to a smaller room. This door locked from the outside, not meant to keep people out. The lock kept whatever was inside from getting out.

Illyria opened the door for them. Just as Hermione had thought, something was inside the small room. The demon, Prisck, chained to the walls by a leather collar around the neck.  
Looks rather odd, Hermione thought. Then she noticed it was missing two arms. His arms, seemingly torn cleanly out of their sockets, left behind a bloody mess. It was not human; obvious from the loose skin and large floppy ears.

Prisck was still alive but bleeding from his wounds. He was in terrible pain but even then he growled threateningly.

"You will kill this creature," Illyria directed, referring to the bound Prisck.

"What has he done? It's not right to kill him if he hasn't done anything evil." Hermione, determined to have her way, stared Illyria in the eye. It was a subconscious action, almost an instinctive response, but the Gryffindor recoiled from Illyria's gaze, fearing those cold and pitiless eyes.

"It matters naught. Kill or be killed. That is your choice," Illyria said, contempt clearly in her voice. "However, choose quickly. The creature will fully regenerate at the stroke of midnight."

Hermione heard the door close behind her. Trapped in a small room with an angry monster. This is bad, she thought. A little like the troll incident, only Harry and Ron wouldn't be coming to her rescue, and no wand this time around.

"W-We don't have to do this, you know." Hermione tried to reason with the chained demon but nervously gripped her sword. "I'm not going to hurt you if you don't try to hurt me."

Prisck heard her but he wouldn't have any of it. "Just stay where you are," he growled angrily but weakly. Then it was midnight, and he screamed as mystical energies erupted from every cell in his body.

"Are you…"

"Stay right there!" Prisck said again, howling with the pain of regeneration.

Hermione backed away in fear. Before her eyes, bone and muscles spawned seemingly from empty joints. Prisck's missing arms grew rapidly and Hermione could only watch and dread what would come next. She trembled; both arms fully formed within minutes save for the skin.

Even with every cell burning, Prisck reveled in euphoria. "The goddess has promised to take me as her servant if I kill you." He wrenched at his leather collar with the partially formed hands. "The honor will be mine!" He cried out, but couldn't get the collar off yet.

Hermione fumbled the handle of her sword, which she barely held onto. Something took over her body, a pure survival instinct. She blinked for one second, and then the next time she looked, she had buried her sword in Prisck's chest.

Prisck's efforts to remove the collar distracted him at the critical moment. He felt something in his chest and looked down. The girl… had stabbed him. Angrily, he batted her aside, satisfied by the limp body that hit the solid steel wall. Prisck reached to pull out the sword.

"Oh, bollocks..." He couldn't get a handle on the sword because his hands had broken down into protein goo that dripped on the floor. With the sword in him, the mystical energies shifted to keep him alive. The energies stubbornly tried to heal his damaged heart which had a sword stuck in it.

His arms, only partially formed, lacked the mystical healing powers. The new cells couldn't sustain themselves and quickly disintegrated. Prisck fell on his knees. He tried to curse one last time but midnight had come and gone, the healing energy exhausted.

Hermione woke up an hour later to find Prisck dead and Illyria standing over her.

Hermione stood as quickly as she could. "Tell me, was that fun for you? You set me up to kill that poor creature, and for what? It was helpless! You may have the emotions of an ice block but the rest of us don't particularly enjoy indiscriminate killing," she shouted angrily.

Illyria, angered by Hermione's words, her voice would shake the heavens had it not came from the thin and frail frame of Winifred Burkle. "If you cannot move yourself to take advantage of your enemy's weakness then it is you who deserve to perish." Illyria pointed irately at Prisck's body. "The enemy is ruthless - do you think they care if you're sick or feeble - they will kill you given the chance. You are bound by an insane construct… This thing you call morality. You must rid yourself of it. If you cannot learn this lesson then you can never hope to defeat your enemy."

"If that is what you are teaching me then I don't want to learn it!" Hermione turned away abruptly.

"I should kill you where you stand, but I will abide by that promise. We are done. Tempt my wrath no longer. Begone." Illyria feared she might break her promise to Wesley had she suffered Hermione's presence one minute longer.

"Fine!" Hermione stamped off, kicked the door open and never looked back.

  
  
  
  


TO BE CONTINUED...


	4. Chapter 4: Wild Child

Look upon my Work

Chapter 4

By Oberon

Many thanks to Idrisien, my Beta, for this wouldn't be nearly as good without him.

AN: Sorry for taking so long for this update, but it was harder for me to write this chapter than I thought. This chapter saw the introduction of a new supporting character which I hope would be relevant to the story. Oh, and you get a cookie if anyone can guess the reference in this chapter.

* * *

**Cargo freighter M/V Poncho…**

Marcus Arnold, marine oiler for the freighter M/V Poncho, was on the midnight watch when he received an urgent call from the captain. The ship had sprung a leak and now precious fuel rained down in certain compartments below decks. Marcus only received his commission two months ago and frankly, this was a job for the main engineer. Jacob, the man in question, had a nasty habit of taking his cigarette breaks in the meat locker.

"Jacob, you in there?" Marcus pounded on the heavy steel door of the walk-in refrigerator. He banged again when no response came. "I know you're in there. Jacob, open up. There's work to do." Marcus thought he heard something inside. Curious, he planted his ear on the thick stainless steel door. Someone was definitely inside. "I'm coming in. Better not be doing something nasty."

He opened the locker by just a crack when he heard the low predatory growl of an animal. The door slammed open suddenly and tossed Marcus back with force. Marcus hit the bulkhead and looked up just in time to see the biggest and meanest looking dog this side of… anywhere.

"Oh, shit… " Marcus muttered and instinctively rolled to the left just as the creature rushed him. He narrowly got out of the creature's way and heard it howl with anger. Marcus didn't care. He just turned around and ran, as fast as he could. The marine oiler felt the hound's hot breath on his sweaty charcoal skin and he thought that the dog would get him for sure. Marine Oiler Marcus rounded a corner then felt and heard the creature crash into the wall.

"Holy… " The animal had left a dent in the wall, but the impact only dazed it. The animal got back on its feet, shaking droplets of blood from its black leathery hide. Marcus run through a hatch and quickly sealed the hatch behind him. He sank to the floor. "What the fuck was that!" He panted, wiping the sweat from his brow.

BANG The hatch quivered and groaned behind him.

"Fuck… that… " Marcus ran from the sealed hatch in a panic.

Crewman Flint up ahead in the narrow corridor saw Marcus bearing down on him.

"Hey, what's--"

Marcus shoved Flint aside, and moments later he heard the crewman's scream followed by a bone-crushing crunch.

"Sorry, man…" But Flint's distraction bought Marcus enough time to run above decks.

Marcus backed away slowly. He desperately looked for a way to escape, to get off this boat. "_Lifeboats!_"

"You there, get away from the lifeboats," the captain of the _Poncho_ called out over the mic.

Marcus looked up just in time to see the spotlight directed at him.

"Eh… Captain… " Someone said nervously over the shoulder of the _Poncho's_ captain.

"What is it, Sampson? Can't you see I'm--" the captain barked back at the speaker irritably. "Holy shit, what the fuck is that thing?"

The bridge of the _Poncho_ reverberated with the screams of frightened men. A sight too gory for their minds, turning seasoned sailors into screaming children. Some of these men lost control and panicked, soiling themselves, their urine mixing with the splattered blood of their comrade.

The captain, the calmest of the bunch on the bridge, managed to utter what he saw. "Oh my God… You killed Sampson! You bastard!" But the captain couldn't escape the fate which befell his men. A moment later the dog-thing tore him limb from limb, his jugular cut open and ripped out by a powerful jaw. The captain's blood sprayed and covered the windows on the bridge.

Marcus froze when he saw the carnage and slaughter on the bridge. He thought about helping these men, at sea they were like family.

"No way, the black man always gets killed."

The pilot, a man Marcus spoke with often, pressed against the windowpane while the dog-like thing devoured him from behind. Blood was everywhere, flowing together and mixing. Marcos saw the pilot's eyes, filled with pain and begging Marcus for help - for some small mercy.

Marcus looked away.

* * *

**M/V Poncho, Cargo hold**

**Three hours later . . .**

The last of the Poncho crew barricaded themselves in the dark cargo hold of the freighter. An eerie silence infected all the men, each knowing and fearing the dog-like thing could and would find them. Each slumped hopelessly on a wooden crate.

They could no longer hear the turn of the engines - the _Poncho_ was dead in the water.

"Don't give up, guys. Help is coming. I'm sure of it." One sailor whispered.

"No one is coming. They don't even know there's anything wrong. In a few hours we'll drift off the established route and then no one can find us."

"We can call for help. If we can just get to the radio--" the sailor suggested optimistically.

"Yeah, and risk getting killed by that thing? But hey, if you're volunteering…"

"Well, it's better than hiding. Besides, if it doesn't get us then starvation will."

"Be quiet, all of you. It's coming."

The growl of the creature echoed in the steel hull of the _Poncho_.

"You guys are such wussies." The sharp voice in the shadows was one that none of the remaining sailors recognized.

"Who said that?" whispered the sailors, too scared to call out any louder.

A shadow descended on them, a shadow which landed on the steel deck plate with a bang.

"A stowaway?"

This new man grunted with disdain. He kept his back to the sailors and all they saw was the back of the man's leather jacket and the hood over his head.

"What are you doing?" cried a sailor when he saw the man unlocking the hatch.

The man, a boy really, turned to them for the first time, allowing them to see what he had in his hand. The dim light of the cargo hold reflected off polished steel - a battle-axe. The few that saw his face thought the boy was odd - with a teaspoon indentation fixed on his forehead.

"Goin' to bag myself a hellhound. Since you pussies are scared shitless and can't get the job done." He left the hatch open.

The crew of the Poncho knew the stowaway wouldn't be coming back. They heard the sounds of battle, of cries of pain and howls indiscernible. Then it was over abruptly. The sailors knew the dog-thing would come through those doors any moment now. A brave man among them stood up to close the hatch before it could get to them. A hand on the hatch prevented it.

The boy stood on the threshold, the severed head of the hellhound in his hand. He tossed the head into the hold for all the sailors to see, and for them to see him.

"Get this boat moving." He told them coldly. "I have a date with an Old One." The boy's angry red eyes stared at the sailors, a hint of violence still lingering from the recent kill.

* * *

**Granger Household …**

Hermione was alone now. Illyria had taken the Death Eater in the attic when she left.

For the first time after her parents' murder, Hermione was truly alone. No one to hug her and assure her that everything was going to be all right. "_Hush now honey, everything's all right. You did the right thing and that's all you need to know._" When Jack cradled her, she honestly believed that everything was going to be all right, just like her daddy said.

Hermione desperately missed Crookshanks too. Poor Crookshanks, still somewhere in Paris and probably caged.

It was the middle of July and the summer was just underway. Hermione curled up on her parents' bed, for this bed was the closest she could be with them now. She heard tapping of the window and Hermione knew it for what it was. With effort, the Gryffindor managed to pull herself together. A look of determination hardened on Hermione's face, the look when she had chosen a path and mustered the will to follow through. It was the same way she felt on that night when she knowingly broke school rules and went with her friends into the forbidden third floor.

She had to go back to Hogwarts. Knowledge is power and Hermione desperately needed power right now. Power to make this pain stop. Hogwarts was the only source of both knowledge and power.

"I'm just the most ridiculous witch, aren't I? Here I was, content to just be Harry's sidekick. Well, no more of that. I'm coming, you hear me! I'm coming." Hermione vowed to Draco and his lord, although the two were not present.

The dirty and worn creature at the window rapped the glass again when no response came forth from Hermione.

"All right! I'm coming," the Gryffindor called out to the creature.

Hermione allowed the owl inside. The animal looked worn and its feathers were dirty from the smog that stuck. Still, it was a pleasant creature and it hooted once while standing on one talon to present the letter attached to the other.

_To Mrs. and Mr. Granger:_

_Greetings to you, parents of Hermione Granger. I trust that this letter finds you well and happily enjoying the summer, I hope. As you may or may not know of the Dark Lord's return, I feel it is my duty to inform all parents of Harry Potter's associates of the dangers._

_The Dark Lord is the most terrible wizard to come around in the last century and he will stop at nothing to get at our Mr. Potter. He or his associates might even use your daughter to carry out their goals, though I know not what they might be. _

_Nevertheless, we are sure, whatever their purposes, ending contact with the Wizarding World or Mr. Potter is not the solution. The Dark Lord knows of the connection between your daughter, Hermione, and Mr. Potter. He will come for her. That is why, for your protection, we suggest your entire immediate family move to a safe house where our own wizards can afford you the protection that you would not have outside the Wizard World. _

_This is only a temporary measure, of course, once Hermione returns to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry I expect you would be free to return to your old lives. For now, the safest course of action is to be among your friends in the Wizarding World._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster_

_P.S. We will escort you and your family to our safe house within two days. Please be ready._

Hermione read the letter and almost lost the resolve and determination she had just a moment ago. "You're too late, Professor… Much too late."

Hermione Granger knew the plan now. She would return to Hogwarts, study hard and grow strong. She would become an Auror. One day, when she was ready, she would come face-to-face with the man who took her family. Then she would make him pay.

"I will become an Auror. I will. But first… I need a new wand."

It was a good plan. It really was, but countless Aurors had faced Voldemort before, and none had lived to tell the tale.

* * *

Hermione wasted no time and set out to buy a new wand from Diagon Alley.

"Ah, Ms. Granger. I did not expect to see you back so soon." Mr. Ollivander wore a fine layer of dust on his iron gray hair - the dust particles dulled his regal white hair in the dim light of the cramped shop. The dust was on his face and musty old suit as well. Hermione remembered that he wore the same suit on her first visit.

Ollivander dusted himself off, or at least he tried. Finally, he gave up and with a wave of his wand he became as any other stuffy merchant minding a dusty old shop. "Much better. A little cleaning before the first years come for their first wands, you know." He stood regally behind the counter and examined Hermione.

"I don't suppose you get too many people in here during the year." Hermione remarked.

"Right you are Ms. Granger." Ollivander beamed cheerfully. "However, a very special order occupied most of my time for the past month. Why just yesterday, I was in New Zealand hunting down an extremely rare tree. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. What happened to the last wand I sold you Ms. Granger?"

Hermione did not want to trouble Mr. Ollivander with the truth. It didn't matter anyway, he could do nothing about Hermione's parents.

"It's those stupid muggles' fault. They were muggers, you see. Those animals! Honestly - a witch can't even get out of the house anymore. I gave them my money but they broke my wand. I just had it polished too. What is the world coming to!" It was a good lie, and Hermione told it well with all the necessary emotions and emphasis. She thought up this story on the way over.

"Most unfortunate," Ollivander sympathized. "It's not easy losing something as precious as one's own wand. Now, let's see if we can find you something more suitable to your current situation." Ollivander smiled and for a moment Hermione wondered if he knew something.

The Gryffindor dismissed the idea. No way could Ollivander know. Not about what happened, not about the horrific murders of Jack and Liz Granger.

"Do you have the pieces of your old wand with you?" Ollivander asked, all traces that suggested he knew more than he had originally let on was now gone from his face.

She expected this. Hermione remained in character - an irate customer.

"Those muggles again. They thought it was so funny that a witch would be carrying a wand around - they didn't know what it was of course - but honestly, they were insufferable little brats. They not only played around with it, broke it into many pieces, and finally set it on fire. There's a word for people like them. Pyromaniacs!" Hermione huffed angrily, she appeared every bit as a crossed witch should be.

"No matter, no matter. I have just the thing." Ollivander disappeared into he stacks behind the counter, only to return a moment later with a large box. It was too large for a wand. "Usually, Ministry law requires written permission before you get a new wand. You can, however, get a replacement for a broken wand if you bring in the pieces of the old one. Since you don't have that, this here -" the shopkeeper pointed to the box. "This will determine the condition of your previous wand."

Ollivander rotated the box around so the end that faced him now faced Hermione. A cut-out hole was on this side which Ollivander showed by tapping his index finger above the hole. "Well, go ahead. Stick your wand hand in."

Hermione cautiously peered at the box, trying to see what was inside the hole. When she saw the impatience on Ollivander's face, Hermione decided to go ahead and do as the wand maker said. "_It couldn't be really dangerous if he had it in his shop._"

"Good, now just hold it there." Ollivander examined the box as if he was looking for something. "There we go." He smiled triumphantly. "Now, if I'm reading this right. A broken wand will turn the strip purple. Green if you lost it. Or gold, if nothing is wrong with your old wand."

A light flashed within the box and it spilled out from the hole which Hermione had her hand in. The light was not painful and Hermione didn't feel anything although she had to turn away almost instantly to avoid the blinding flash.

"That's enough," Ollivander told Hermione after the light inside the box died.

Hermione pulled away. Ollivander looked contemplative, but quickly replaced this thoughtful expression with his usual enthusiasm for the wand business.

"Well, Ms. Granger. Let's start, shall we?" The wand maker took the box away then came back with one of his wands. "Try this," he held out the wand for Hermione to take the handle.

Hermione knew what to do this time around. Without prompting from Ollivander, the Gryffindor took hold of the wand. She waved it, expecting the same sense of euphoria she experienced the first time she was here. No wind and no feeling of belonging this time, only the sound of discord as something broke in the shop.

Ollivander ripped the wand from Hermione's hand.

"Strange," the old wand maker examined his work with curiosity. "This is almost a copy of your old wand. Same base, and the core came from the same creature as well."

They tried another wand with the same result.

"Try this one. It's slightly more powerful than the others, but not excessively so." Again Hermione took hold of the new wand and waved. This one didn't even deign to give a response.

"I don't think you were so difficult with your first wand." They went ahead and tried a few more wands in the next hour. In the end, none was suitable.

Ollivander looked back and forth between his shelves furiously. "This has never happened before." He mumbled to no one. "Two cases in a month!"

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Ollivander?" Hermione asked curiously. _What did he mean by two cases?_

"Nothing, my dear. Nothing is wrong. It seems my little shop does not have a proper wand for you now. This is unusual, but not unheard-of. The wand does choose the wielder after all."

"What usually happens in cases like mine?" Hermione asked.

Ollivander picked up a discarded wand. "Here," he offered to Hermione. This was a wand that didn't respond, Hermione remembered.

"I thought none of these worked for me?"

"True, but this one is safe for you to use. At least until I get one that's more suitable. It'll be a little hard to work with at first but it's temporary."

Hermione took the wand's handle but Ollivander still had a tight grip on the shaft.

"It's an expensive wand and I would rather not part with it until it finds a good home. I expect it to be in the same condition as it is now when you bring it back." Ollivander stared the Gryffindor in the eye, finally, he allowed Hermione to take possession of the new wand.

Hermione however, remained composed when she finally had the wand.

"How long before one is ready for me?" She asked the shopkeeper, still in control and not intimidated by Ollivander's glare.

"I should have it before the beginning of the term. If not, talk to your Headmaster to get permission to come down here during the term."

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander. I promise I'll take good care of this wand." Hermione pledged to the wand maker and Ollivander returned a smile.

"Oh, one last thing, Ms. Granger. Remind Mr. Potter to take good care of his wand as well, would you?"

"Of course Mr. Ollivander. I'll tell him just in case, but I'm sure he knows how important that is already." Hermione left the store, the doors closed behind her.

* * *

Leaving Ollivander's behind her, Hermione Granger came face-to-face with her parents' murderer.

"Well, well, well… If it isn't the one that got away." Draco Malfoy taunted Hermione from just beyond her arm's reach. Had he been just a tad closer, the Gryffindor would have strangled him.

She had a wand and Draco was alone, here in the open and away from his fellow Death Eaters. Hermione saw the look of arrogance on Draco's face, and she knew. _"He isn't expecting a fight. Not here, not now and not in public. Go, now is your chance. Take your revenge."_ The voice inside Hermione sounded suspiciously like a certain young woman she knew. The voice was right, though. _"He's just standing there. Do it! _"

Hermione gripped her wand tightly, about to move, but she froze. She trembled and fought against her own body which refused her. Soon enough, traitorous thoughts crept and insinuated themselves into the furious maelstrom of rage that was her mind. "_I'm not fast enough. He'll see it coming. What if I do kill him? They wouldn't believe Draco Malfoy killed my parents. They don't even believe Dumbledore about You-know-who's return." _ These little voices of doubt soon became a roaring hurricane and drowned out the raging storm_. "They'll throw me into Azkaban for killing him in public - everyone will think I have gone mad - and give me the Dementor's kiss!_"

"I-I can't do it." Hermione shook.

"What was that, mudblood? Did you say something?" Draco leaned in closer, daring and tempting the Gryffindor to strike him down.

Hermione kept silent, her trembling driven part by fear and another part by rage.

"That's what I thought," Draco's smile was vicious, mocking and taunting. He knew the Gryffindor could do nothing while they were out in public. "You know what? I think the mudblood has finally learned her place in the world." Draco leered at her. "If only you figured it out five years ago, you could have saved yourself."

Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't stand the way Draco paraded himself around out in the open as if he owned the place. Not after what he had done. The Wizarding World should know better, they should hunt him down for the Death Eater and murderer that he is.

Instead, the people in Diagon Alley treated him like a prince out for inspection. Hermione couldn't stand it. She saw the adults bow to Draco as they passed. "_Good day, Mister Malfoy._" The other wizards said briskly. "_How do you do, Master Malfoy?_" A witch greeted him from outside a second-hand robe shop.

It was the last straw for Hermione. She broke, but instead of going after Malfoy, the Gryffindor ran. She turned and she ran while Draco laughed at her from behind her back.

Draco saw Hermione disappearing into the crowd at Diagon Alley. He hesitated but decided to follow her.

"Where do you think you're going?" Draco came face-to-face with Lucius Malfoy.

"Father, I was just going to finish what I started." The younger Malfoy told the older.

"Although I appreciate your zeal, you are to leave her alone. For now. Do you understand?" Lucius glared at the boy. The father's eyes were usually cold and serious but at this moment, they were especially so.

"But why?" Draco wanted to ask. Instead, he simply accepted the older Malfoy's request. "Very well, father. I will not touch her. For now."

* * *

He had been tracking the one for some time now. He had followed it all around the lower states, always one step behind. Sometimes he would miss it by mere hours. About a month ago he had lost track of it, almost as if it had vanished into thin air. A lucky meeting in a bar had put him back on track. Over several drinks, an employee of Wolfram & Hart let slip that it was in London. He hopped on the first boat to London - the slaughter that was _M/V Poncho_.

Now, a month and one somewhat entertaining boat ride later, he had picked up the scent again. It led here.

"Where is the Old One?" he bellowed. The human child trembled and her lips quivered. He terrified the human but she did not answer. He became impatient. "I can smell the scent of the Old One on you. Where is she?"

The demon stepped through the doorway of the Granger home while the human instinctively backed away. This place reeked of the Old One, his prey was here.

In a loud booming voice, he declared himself to whoever was in the house. "I am Mauser of the Vahrall Demon Clan. Come, Old One, I have found you at last, come and face your doom!"

No answer. Only the human girl tried to reach for a weapon while she thought Mauser wasn't looking. However, he was, and he saw what Hermione was doing. Mauser moved faster than Hermione could react. A split second, it was enough for Mauser to swat the wand from the human's hand. The wand fell to the floor and rolled behind the shadows under a couch.

Hermione swallowed nervously. The boy's sudden movements had blown back his hood which previously concealed most of the boy's face. The Gryffindor thought the boy was just some crazy muggle street punk with a leather jacket, red contacts and a rather strange teaspoon dent on his forehead. The crazy boy looked human enough, although a bit touched in the head – like all Yanks. Instead, Hermione had just made a demon very angry.

"Ah… I-I don't know whom you're trying to find but I'm the only one that lives here." Hermione told Mauser while cradling her wand hand. The hand still stung from when he had knocked her wand away.

Mauser, not so easily dissuaded, knew the Old One was here. He was certain of it. Her scent was distinctive. Maybe it was the lying, but something set him off. Mauser struck the girl with the back of his hand.

"Lying bitch… "

Hermione's head knocked against the wall after Mauser struck her. It was all too sudden, whiplash and pain across her jaw was the last sensation she knew before unconsciousness.

* * *

Hermione came around slowly. She felt her jaw sting with pain and instinctively tried to reach for it. Only she found her arms tied down, to her own chair in her own kitchen.

"Oh… It's you…" The demon, Mauser, had her captive. He stood rigidly, waiting, and looking past Hermione toward the window.

"Shut up," he growled with irritation.

Now that Mauser's hood was down, he looked much less human. "_Clearly a demon, he has green spikes for hair._" Hermione berated herself for missing the obvious. They, the spikes, were slicked back to a single point at the back of his head. He had no ears that Hermione could see - only small narrow openings behind ridges on the side of his face that led to more spikes. Still, Mauser was more human looking than any demon that Hermione had seen so far.

The spikes looked good on him… _"Oh my God…_."Hermione stopped herself. "_I did not just think that… it's like… like finding Dobby attractive… That's disgusting!_" On another note, the demon hadn't killed her yet.

"What is it that you want?" Hermione asked bravely. "You want me for something, so I would think… Since I'm still alive."

Mauser said nothing; instead he glared at the human child before him.

Hermione wouldn't let the demon intimidate her. He had made Hermione mad, invaded her parents' house – her house– and captured her. Besides, Mauser wasn't that scary, Hermione had seen much more threatening faces in the Forbidden Forest… and in her fellow wizards.

Hermione glared back, right into Mauser's angry red eyes. "Look, I know you want something. Just go ahead… just say it and save us time glaring at each other because you're going to have to tell me eventually."

"Figure yourself for one of the smart ones, don't you. You know what? You don't know Jack!" Mauser bellowed, clearly growing annoyed with the human.

Hermione suddenly felt a stinging in her heart. "That's just the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard." Hermione shot back angrily. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You don't even know me."

The demon dismissed Hermione's words. "Ha, if you actually knew– the thing that you have been living with – what the Old One represents to you humans."

Hermione stared at the demon. "I told you, I haven't been living… " Then she understood. "You're talking about Illyria, aren't you?"

"That's the name. Bet you don't know what she is, though," he sneered.

"W-Why do you call Illyria an Old One? She isn't that old." It had never occurred to Hermione until now. It never occurred to Hermione to ask Illyria what she was. Following her parents' murder, Hermione never bothered - not actively - to figure out her rescuer.

She had taken Illyria for granted, had only tried to connect with the older girl once or twice, never seriously. Even on the day they parted ways, Hermione meant to ask the older girl about herself. However, the Gryffindor and the prideful Illyria had argued, and Hermione's questions remained unasked.

"BAH!" Mauser's answer was dismissive. "It's Old One, fool. The original demons, and let me tell you something about your pal. She is more dangerous to you humans than you know."

The revelation shocked Hermione speechless. This made so much sense -Illyria's inhuman strength and her attitude toward everyone. It even explained Illyria's knowledge of demons. _She knows about them because she is one herself_. Then, of course, this would explain why Illyria went to Voldemort on that night.

Realization suddenly dawned on Hermione's face. "You're hunting her… hunting Illyria… aren't you?"

Perhaps he could turn her, the thought crossed Mauser's mind. A cooperative hostage is much easier to handle. Maybe, just maybe the human can be of some use when the time comes. "If you know what's good for you, you'll help me." Mauser smirked with smug arrogance.

The same thought had occurred to Hermione as well. "Why should I help _you_? You have me tied to a chair in my own home!"

"It's simple. If you don't help me, I'll kill you."

"I'm just saying… if you want my help then you should give me a reason… a better reason."

"Fine, have it your way." Mauser scowled at his captive, but just then, he hit on a brilliant idea. "You saw the news, right?" He asked grimly but did not wait for Hermione's response. "So you know what's going in the States. That riot in LA couple months ago, who do you think had a hand in that?"

Hermione snorted. "That's a big fat lie, if I ever heard one. Honestly, you can't expect me to believe that one girl… or demon…caused all that destruction and mayhem. Not even Illyria can do that! Besides… it's a well-known fact the wizards, Wolfram and Hart, released their pet dragon for retaliation on the muggle terrorists that blew up their office. The _Ministry of Magic_ couldn't do anything about it because the incident didn't happen on British soil. It's been very well reported on by the_ Daily Prophet_."

"Wolfram and Hart, wizards? I don't know what you're smoking but everyone in the demon world knows it's Illyria and her pal, Angel, that brought down Wolfram and Hart's building. They started the riots. They're the ones responsible for what's happened in LA. Don't take my word for it. Just ask her when she gets here."

"I will." Hermione promised, eagerly.

"She is not your friend, human." Mauser told Hermione with all the gravity he could muster. "Illyria is an Old One. Their kind is a race of ancient killers which committed unspeakable crimes since before the dawn of time. Against their own, the lesser demons--" Mauser said the last words grudgingly. He despised the mere thought that he was the 'lesser' of anything.

"And you, the humans. She will kill every last man, woman and child on Earth if given the chance. She tried to do that once already, in recent times. Just ask her, she will tell you that it's true. All of it."

"Let's say I believe you. That every… everything you said about Illyria hasn't been a lie," doubt crept into Hermione's voice. "How can I help you when you don't even t-trust me?"

"This is too important. How do I know you're not just lying to me like so many of your kind often do?"

"If we're going to work together, then we're going to have to start trusting each other. We can take this one small step at a time."

"What do you suggest?" A curious Mauser asked his captive.

"It will go a long way," Hermione said, looking genuinely sympathetic, "If you can show that you are willing to compromise, I would think. I'll promise -- give you my… my word -- that I wouldn't try to r-run away if you untie me." Hermione asked with innocence dripping from every syllable.

The demon's interest evaporated. "Ha, yeah right!"

Hermione's face flashed with self-consternation. "No, I'm serious. Untie me, I-I really need to go." It was the only thing she could think of that didn't make her intentions seem so obvious.

Mauser's anger exploded. His voice rose with every word. "You ain't going anywhere. Lying humans! You expect me to believe that? From a female?"

Hermione took the demon's comments about the fairer sex most personally. "Fine!" She yelled back. "Don't blame me if it gets foul in here."

"Ha! A true warrior wouldn't care about such discomfort." The demon stood regally, infused with pride. "But I don't suppose you know anything about what it means to be a warrior."

Hermione groaned. "By Merlin, you sound exactly like her – always going on with that true warrior sermon." She raved with resentments that she didn't know she had.

"I'm sick of it," a furious Hermione declared. "--And you know what? Kill me if you want, but Illyria's not here and she won't be back. I don't care what you do as long as you stop with that warrior talk, just get _OVER_ it." Hermione wasn't finished yet. "—And another thing, who taught you how to speak to women like that anyway? Why, if your mother was here –"

"Shut up." The demon shouted with boiling anger. "What do you know? You're just another stupid human." He bared his canine-like fangs for the girl to see.

Hermione suddenly feared for her life. "Hey, what are you doing?" She protested when the demon circled behind her. She sat helplessly, tied to the chair.

"Untying you," Mauser grunted. "I swear; you females get shriller every minute holding it in. I don't know how the males of your species put up with it."

Mauser herded Hermione into the loo and the door shut behind her with a bang. She could still hear the demon just on the other side of the door, waiting for her.

"Hurry up," Hermione heard her captor shout from the other side. "What's taking so long in there?"

"Just a minute," she called back through the closed door. Hermione searched the loo furiously, looking for anything or any way to escape from the demon. She appraised the tinted window. It was narrow but Hermione was slim enough to fit through. The Gryffindor quickly went to work on the latch that held the window shut.

Hermione felt the fear rush through her at a bang on the door. She looked behind her to see the demon had yet to break down the door. She extended her foot to the commode and managed to get it to flush. "You might want to settle down and get something to eat. This is going to take awhile… I think." Hermione called out over the sound of rushing water.

Hermione went back to work. _Stupid latch! _ The joint stuck, rusted with age since the last use years ago.

Mauser grumbled, something about women, from just outside the door.

Hermione knew she did not have much time. Finally, with a snap, the latch turned. The bushy haired Gryffindor did not waste time and began pushing on the window with both hands. The window groaned, loose dirt and chipped paint falling between cracks, then gave way by two inches or so. The opening was too small, too narrow. She pushed harder. Then, at last, a sound like something broke, and the window finally opened wide.

Hermione did not hesitate to throw herself at the opening. She pushed back against the outside wall with both hands, half of her was through the window when the door behind her exploded.

Mauser felt something was wrong. He kicked down the door with enough force to rip the lock right out of the frame and saw the girl's legs hanging from the window.

Hermione was almost through when Mauser grabbed her from behind. Strong hands dug into the waistline of her jeans, pulling her back in. Hermione screamed. "HELP ME!" At the top of her lungs she called out.

"Lying bitch!" Mauser bellowed. Anger made his red eyes seem bloody red. He tossed the girl into the room with a callous heave. "You're going to regret this," he told her.

He stalked menacingly toward the prone Hermione, her eyes staring into his. The demon felt her fear.

The scent… the Old One's scent was becoming stronger.

"She is here, Illyria…"

A loud crash from the main living room confirmed his senses. The sound was very much like a window smashing into a million of pieces.

Illyria appeared before him in all her forbidden glory.

"I am aware that a worm seeks to do battle with me, a god. Very well, I shall grant you the honor and deign to extinguish your pitiful existence."

To be continued...

AN: I am aware of certain theory speculates that Ollivander is on the side of the Death Eaters. I take no possition in this debate but however point out that Ollivander, no matter where his alligence lies, is a pragmatic individual that would see which way the wind is blowing first before committing.

Next chapter we will hear something about the Granger's masters. Big fight between Mauser and Illyria. And finally, Hermione confronting Illyria.


End file.
